


But every hour is saved

by middlemarch



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: American Civil War, Angst, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Romance, post-episode, study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: It would be better to be lonely with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassanabaratheon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassanabaratheon/gifts).



“Come to bed, Byron,” she said, more softly that he was used to and he gave her a rare quizzical look instead of immediately asking her why she had relented. The room smelled of untrimmed candle-wick and ink, the chicory the officers had started drinking in May when the coffee gave out. The lamplight was kind to them both, she thought, neither in the first bloom of youth. Her own fresh beauty had been a casualty of the Crimea; he’d never known her then but he had never complained that she was lacking in any way.

“Nan?”

“I know you haven’t taken the exam yet. I know, I know what I told you. But I’m selfish, I don’t want to sleep alone, even if you fail,” she said, reaching out a hand to him. Something had gone right for him today, for he took her hand and kissed it gallantly. She let out a breath held deep at the base of her lungs, where her stays were laced tightly, where they’d chafed her skin as Foster had driven the carriage towards his own devastation. He had run to the dock when Samuel told him and she had gotten herself down and walked into the hospital. She had not imagined it—Mary’s absence was widely felt, a primary melancholy spread imperceptibly, evenly, like moonlight through the curtainless wards, edged with a deadly bitterness in the chaplain’s eyes, Matron’s mouth, the set of Samuel’s jaw. But Byron had not heard, not sequestered in his golden study and she sighed to think she must tell him. Not yet.

“If it’s what you want, it’s not selfish. And I won’t fail—not the examination, not you. You’ll see,” he said, taking off the spectacles and rubbing his eyes briefly. He tucked them in his coat pocket, then rose and put an arm around her. He could not bear everything for her, she could not faint dead away to be caught, carried, consoled, but he was there and his arm was warm. His eyes were nothing like Robin’s but she had accepted that a long time ago. 

“I expect I will. It’s been a long day and tomorrow will surely be another. Let’s not let the night be short,” she replied. He had learned enough to know her tone and he did not smirk or tease. He would unlace the stays and trace the abrasions with his finger, not his lips. He would not complain when she turned on her side and he would fit himself behind her, one hand on her hip, and he wouldn’t say good-night, only,

“Nan.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not the biggest Anne/Byron shipper but the second season is making an effort to humanize them and I decided to take it all the way. This is a vignette, an outtake from my larger shadow episode "To Seek a Newer World." The title is also from Tennyson's Ulysses.


End file.
